I met a man in a local hospital who cut down one of the oldest trees in a Forest. He told me that he’d been using a chainsaw when his harness had broken. He said that he believed he fell around 200 feet to the ground, only suffering injury to his left arm.
Instead of falling away from the tree, which he should have done, and to his death, he felt pushed inward, and the branches cushioned his fall and saved his life. He had not wanted to cut down the tree and had spoken against its felling, saying that it should be allowed to fall naturally. He felt empathy for the tree and deep respect for its age.
The tree was dead, officially, but was in no danger of falling for some considerable time.
A golden coin
Just before his accident, the man had found a gold coin at the foot of the tree, just beneath the topsoil. It later turned out to be a coin of King Richard I’s time. He said he felt it was a lucky charm, and he had the gold coin in his pocket the day of the accident.
He went on to describe rooms carved into the trunk of the tree and even a stone or brick fireplace, a door and two small windows, like a miniature dwelling of sorts.
Our conversation was short, and I was able to tell him that his sympathy and empathy for the energies were understood and his life a gift. He said that he felt very lucky to be alive.
From a Faery perspective, anyone harming a tree such as this should expect swift retribution, often reported in the death of such an offender. But here we have a man who wanted nothing but to leave the tree alone and felt forced into the situation.
Faery justice appears to have been swift and fair. His harness snapped and his body flung to the earth, but stout limbs to lessen the fall and his payment a twisted and useless arm. In the old stories, we often hear of a person being left blind, deaf or maimed in some way after a negative encounter with a Faery
Faery Clock
Just before our conversation, I had been in a small closed room with two hospital staff, when one of them called our attention to what he called out loud “A Faery Clock” there in the middle of this tiny room was a perfect dandelion head, not crushed as strong winds or if it had been brought in on someone’s clothing, but perfect. It had appeared from nowhere. It circled around the nurse talking to me and then moved across to his colleague, before moving away.
They made a joke about it, and I pointed out that I was wearing a T-shirt with a large Faery face on it; add to this that there was a print on the wall behind them of a stark-looking tree, and the scene was one of mystery.
It was a wonderful moment of pure Faery magic, all taking place in a busy modern hospital department. Shortly after, I met the man who suffered the Faery justice. He told me that he had felt that I was a person who could help and offer him peace.
